The Least of These
by Evie Delacourt
Summary: This story is mostly set during the Deryni persecutions under the Custodes Fidei in the year 918. Yet even in those dark times, there were people who risked their lives in order to save as many Deryni as they could. Some were not even Deryni themselves, but were motivated by their love for all mankind, despite their differences. This is a tale of some of those unsung heroes.
1. Author's Foreword and Part One

**Author's Foreword: **

_This story began with a Transfer Portal. More specifically, it began with my need for a Transfer Portal in Stavenham._

_In my story _**Possessed**_, I needed a Transfer Portal somewhere in the Kheldish Riding, conveniently enough located to my villain's barony of Caerdraig that it could be used for the occasional journey to or from that area, yet not so conveniently located that my villain would be likely to discover it. Stavenham seemed the most logical place for such a Portal to exist, and in the beginning I simply placed this Portal in Stavenham Cathedral and called it a day._

_But, as it turned out, Stavenham Cathedral wasn't on the _**Deryni Magic**_ list of cathedrals known or even suspected to have had a Transfer Portal back in Camber's day. So, I wondered, should I assume they had one anyway, or just change the Portal to one on private property—perhaps someone's personal home Transfer Portal that had been built centuries ago, during the beginnings of the Deryni Persecutions? But if I did that, how would my Kelson-era Arilans ever find out about its existence?_

_This story had another origin as well. Back during my childhood, when I was around seven, I remember reading a short biography of Harriet Tubman and being inspired by her heroic actions as a conductor in the Underground Railroad, helping many runaway slaves across the northern US border to safety in Canada in the pre-Civil War days. Not only was she courageous, she drove an underground train! (At seven, I was still a bit unclear on the concept.) A few years later, I was introduced to the film and the book _**The Hiding Place**_, about the Ten Boom family who saved the lives of several Jewish refugees during the dark days of WW II in the Nazi-occupied Netherlands. What if there had been similar men and women of courage in the days of the Regents and the Custodes Fidei—people who risked their lives in order to save as many Deryni as they could? What if these people were not even Deryni themselves, but were motivated by their love for all mankind, despite their differences?_

_So this is a story about how and why a private Transfer Portal just happened to be located in a garden shrine to Saint Catulina in Stavenham, and how this Portal could have gained enough significance for its location to be remembered and passed down through two centuries of Deryni persecution, so it could still be usable (despite the occasional hiccup) in 1133. This story is dedicated to those men and women of courage and compassion who have dedicated their lives to serving others in need throughout the ages._

_ "Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?' And the King will answer and say to them, 'Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.'"_

_Matthew 25: 37-40_

**The Least of These**

**Part One**

_May 23, 918_

_Ivygreen House, Stavenham_

We sat, my sisters and I, listening attentively as Papa read to us a passage from our family's Book of Hours. It was the passage from the Gospel of the Lord that had been read at Stavenham Cathedral earlier that morning. _"Tunc respondebunt ei iusti dicentes, 'Domine, quando te vidimus esurientem et pavimus sitientem et dedimus tibi potum? Quando autem te vidimus hospitem et colleximus te aut nudum et cooperuimus? Aut quando te vidimus infirmum aut in carcere et venimus ad te?' Et respondens rex dicet illis, 'Amen dico vobis quamdiu fecistis uni de his fratribus meis minimis mihi fecistis.'"_ Papa closed the book containing the Holy Writ, kissing the cover reverently. "The Word of the Lord," he added.

"Thanks be to God," we chimed in, as was our habit during our daily devotional and study time.

Papa's keen blue eyes turned to Rose then, the eldest of us sisters. "Well, Rose, what lesson does today's passage hold for us?" Rose was my elder by almost two years, due to turn eighteen on Midsummer Day, and of all of us she was the most apt pupil, her Latin scholarship miles above the rest of ours save Papa's. My own understanding of that ancient language was adequate, though I still struggled with the grammar of it. I was eager to hear Rose's explication, knowing I would be called upon to double-translate the text on my own later. Translating the Latin text into Gwyneddan and then the Gwyneddan back into Latin was Papa's preferred way of teaching us Latin studies, and I hated it. Thankfully I hadn't shown enough progress in the language yet for Papa to try introducing me to Greek, as he'd done with Rose earlier in the year.

As for Pippa, well, at just-turned-eleven she was young yet, and barely able to struggle through the Latin primers we older sisters had passed down to her. But she would learn—we all had—for Papa held that educated daughters would make good marriages, and that if we but had a good education and chose our husbands with care, and raised our children to love God and serve mankind according to their talents, our sons could well aspire to rise in their fortunes one day, for scholars were much sought after in the courts of noblemen. Perhaps, someday, a man of the McTavish blood, though bearing his father's name, might even rise far enough above his humble merchant-class origins to serve in the Court of the Haldane Kings.

"Do you want me to translate it verbatim, Papa, or shall I just sum up?" Rose asked. I suppressed a wince. I had hoped she'd simply translate it; that would have made my afternoon lessons much easier. But Papa, after glancing at me with a twinkle in his eye, shook his head. "A summation would do nicely, sweeting. You wouldn't want to do Elena's work for her."

"_I'd_ like that," I muttered. Pippa giggled. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Darling, don't do that," Mama said, looking up from her needlework to arch her brows reprovingly at me. "You're a woman grown now, and it hardly sets a good example for Philippa." A dimple twitched in one soft cheek. "Besides, dear, if you keep making faces so, you might well wake up one morning and find your features stuck in that position." She nodded her head towards Rose. "Attend to your sister now."

I subsided, turning towards my elder sister, who gave my father a long-suffering glance and continued. "The Gospel says we should tend to those who are less fortunate than ourselves," Rose answered him, "for when we do so, it is as if we are rendering good service to the King. Or to be more accurate, since this _is_ a parable, towards God."

"Well, it's the same thing, isn't it?" asked Pippa. "The King is God's anointed ruler, so if we serve the King, we serve God, I should think. Or, since the King's just a boy yet, if we obey the Regents."

Papa caught Mama's eye over the table. "Nicely reasoned, Philippa, and would that it held true in every case. Fortunately much of the time it does—or at least, men are only rarely in a position where, in order to obey the King's Laws, they'd have to disobey God's commandments. It _can_ happen, though, for Kings and Regents are men, and men are subject to human nature and are therefore fallible. In which case, I suppose one who were to find himself in such a difficult position would serve both best by serving God first and foremost, then submitting himself before the King and pleading his case in hopes that the King and his Lords Regent will see their error and show leniency."

"Not that it always works out that way, not that I suppose that's _his_ fault, God save the poor lad," muttered Mama, her needle working furiously.

"Adela…." Papa gave Mama a warning look, and she subsided. I wondered what it was that they weren't saying, but Mama, seeing the question in my eyes, gave me a slight shake of the head and tilted her head towards Pippa. Clearly, whatever her concern was, it wasn't a subject she wished me to pursue while younger ears were around.

#

The afternoon slipped past without giving me any opportunity to ask Mama what she had meant by her statement. I soon forgot to pursue the question, caught up as I was in my lessons, but eventually I finished the task. I slipped the book of waxed tablets into my pouch and went to look for Papa. He was nowhere to be found, though Eglantine, one of our new kitchen maids, pointed to the back garden. "E's off tae supervise th' buildin'," she told me.

I slipped around to the back of the house, wandering down the garden path to the rear of our courtyard garden. Our gardeners, under Mama's supervision, had planted such a glorious profusion of flowering plants and herbs, both ornamental and medicinal, that our courtyard had become the pride of Stavenham over the years, or at least of our small portion of the town. The central fountain provided a peaceful counterpoint to the bustle of noise coming from the nearby port. I followed one of the pebble-paved walkways bordering the plant beds until I came to the northeastern corner of the courtyard, where Papa was supervising the building of our latest addition to the garden. At the moment, it resembled a hollow pile of mortared rocks more than anything else.

"What's it meant to be?" I asked him.

Papa smiled. "That's a good question. What do you think it looks like?"

I stared at the new feature in bafflement. "Some sort of a cave?"

"Very good, Elena. You're quite close, actually. Now, what if I were to tell you there will be a small shrine inside once we're done?"

I studied the structure again with a more critical eye. "Oh, is it to be a garden grotto, then? One of the sort you and Mama saw on your travels before Rose was born?" I'd never actually seen one, though Papa had once brought Mama on some of his business ventures to far-off places when they were newly wed, and she had told me of some of the sights she had seen in various ports in Torenth and the Norselands. There had been a grotto in some garden in Torenth that she had admired greatly and had hoped to have something similar built in our courtyard someday. "Whose shrine shall it be, Papa?"

He gave me a fond smile, a twinkle in his bright eyes. "Well, since I have three beautiful daughters, two of whom are of marriageable age and one who is swiftly approaching womanhood, I was thinking perhaps a shrine to Saint Catulina would be appropriate. Though of course your mother shall have her say in the final decision."

I laughed. "Isn't Catulina the patron saint of virtuous maidens?"

Papa grinned. "Indeed! I see you've been studying your saints, if not your Latin grammar." He held out his hand for my tablets, which I handed over to him, and untied the leather lacing binding the tablets together, opening the pages to study the translations I had inscribed on the wax inside. After a quick perusal of my lesson, he nodded approvingly, and I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Not bad work, Elena. I'll make a scholar of you yet." He turned as a laborer emerged from the grotto-in-progress and, to my surprise, handed him my tablets. "Elena, I should like for you to meet Master Rylan, the architect for this fine edifice. Rylan, my middle daughter Elena. What think you of her progress?"

The laborer swept me a surprisingly polished bow before glancing down at my script. I fought back a blush, wondering what Papa was about, and also wondering whether a common laborer would even know the ancient language I had translated, much less be able to comment knowledgeably about my efforts. To my surprise, his warm brown eyes scanned the text swiftly, his brows arching slightly as he read. He handed the tablets back to me with a respectful inclination of his head once he was done. "Nicely done, Mistress Elena. I think you may be further along in your Latin than I was at your age." He grinned. "My tutors despaired of me at times, I'm afraid."

I curtseyed, averting my eyes to conceal my surprise. Obviously he must be more than he seemed, this grotto-designer Papa had hired, if he had been educated in more than the basics of reading and writing in Gwyneddan and totting up simple sums. I glanced up at my father uncertainly, and he smiled back, doubtless aware of my confusion. "Master Rylan is a physician by trade, sweeting. Or, more precisely, a Healer."

"A…Oh!" I smiled nervously at the Healer in sudden understanding. He was Deryni, then. And doubtless fairly high-born—of wealthy merchant stock at the very least, if not of noble blood—since his family had been able to hire tutors for him. If he'd been fully trained in his craft, then doubtless he'd also been educated at some university, or more likely at Saint Neot's Abbey, that Gabrilite monastery and schola for Healers that had been sacked and burned just a year before at the Regents' command. I felt ill at ease—not because he was Deryni, for I had known several of their race and did not believe them to be the evil sort of folk that certain churchmen claimed them to be—but because I hardly knew what to say to a man who must have lost much in the reversals of fortune that had swept through the Kingdom of Gwynedd in recent years, especially among his race. How much this man must have lost, to be stacking stones and mortar in a merchant's garden—even one so well off as my dear Papa—if he'd been trained in a far higher profession!

I tried to think of something safe to say. "You don't sound like you were raised in this area, Master Rylan. From where did your family come?" I asked him.

The Healer gave me a wry smile. "Nyford, I'm afraid."

A chill swept over me. Even this far north and east, we had heard news of the burning of that distant town nearly two years previously. Hundreds had perished in the flames that had been set specifically to destroy Deryni homes and properties, foremost among which had been Saint-Camber's-at-Nyford, the abbey dedicated to that Deryni saint. "Jesú!" I glanced at Papa, then met the Healer's eyes again with an effort, feeling no little shame that such as he had suffered so for something they could hardly help. After all, no man asked to be born Deryni any more than one asked to be born human. "I am right glad you got out, then, and hope you prosper well enough here. Under the circumstances, I mean." I fought a blush, resolving to keep my mouth shut before I could say anything more to embarrass myself.

#

Evening shadows fell. We readied ourselves for bed, Papa leading us all in the nightly devotions before we went our separate ways, Papa and Mama up to their bedchamber and my sisters and I to our own.

Rose peered out the window as she combed the tangles out of Pippa's long hair and prepared to braid it for the night, a wistful smile crossing her features as she studied the house across the street from our own. The comb got caught in a snarl, tugging at Pippa's ginger hair until she yelped. "Stop gawking at Jamie's house and mind what you're doing!" Pippa protested, yanking the comb out of Rose's hand, annoyed.

Rose glanced down apologetically, and closed the shutters with a sigh. "I'm sorry, pet," she said, blushing fiercely and attending to Pippa's locks more carefully, not allowing herself to be distracted again until the fine strands of flyaway hair were tamed into a smoothly braided queue, a ribbon tied neatly at the end to secure it. "There you go, then. Off to bed!" Pippa complied, giving her face and hands a brief rinse in the basin and stripping down to her chemise, folding her outer garments neatly and leaving them by the door for our maidservant to bring to the laundress in the morning before hopping under the blanket on her small pallet.

Rose turned her attention to me then, tending to my hair then handing me the comb so I could tend to hers. I carefully ran the ivory teeth through her mass of chestnut curls, wishing I'd been graced with my eldest sister's beautiful tresses instead of my own straight brown locks. Rose had been acclaimed as one of Stavenham's beauties since she first entered womanhood, and had no lack of admirers, though her own eyes were fixed on only one.

"You know Papa will never permit Jamie to court you," I whispered, pitching my voice too low for Pippa to hear from her pallet.

Rose turned troubled brown eyes up at me. "I know, but there's none other I want. And there's naught wrong with Jamie; Papa's said so himself. He thinks Jamie's a good man."

I set the comb down upon the table, squeezing my sister's hand. "I know. Jamie's a right sort, conscientious and hard working, and if there were any fairness in the world, he'd rise far. But he's Deryni. It's far too dangerous, wedding one of their sort in these times! Papa just wants to see you happy and secure, not in constant worry for your future."

Rose's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I know all of Papa's reasons, but I can't help it, Elena, I love Jamie! And it won't be like this forever—it _can't_ be! I'm sure the King will put a stop to the burnings and the persecutions once he's of age."

I released her hand, moving to add my outer garments to the pile Pippa had left near the door. "I do hope so, Rosie. I quite like Jamie, and I believe Papa does as well, for all he's forbidden the match. He doesn't believe the Deryni are all evil any more than all humans are, or he'd not have hired so many. But even _that's_ taking a bit of a risk, you know, and if you were to _wed_ into a Deryni family...well, is it any wonder Papa fears for your safety, with what's been happening around the Kingdom in places like Nyford and Dolban?

"Oh, Elena, you don't understand!" Rose shot me an exasperated look as she crossed our small chamber, tossing her clothing onto the pile before coming to sit on our shared bed. "I would gladly die for Jamie! And he's being cautious; do you think he wants to draw undue attention to himself and his family?"

I snorted. "A romantic enough sentiment, being willing to die for him, but if Jamie has any love for you and a smattering of common sense in his head, he'd much rather you live in safety instead, and he'll stop making eyes at you! At least until things settle down a bit more..._if _they do." I had a less optimistic view than Rose regarding how long the anti-Deryni hostilities would last. My older sister far outshone me in her linguistic studies, but she had little interest in history, nor much interest in the tidbits of news that reached our corner of the world from faraway cities like Rhemuth. But I had listened to Papa's stories of the injustices visited upon humans by the Deryni lords during the reigns of the Festillic Kings, and now that the House of Festil had been deposed and the Haldane Kings restored to the throne, the pendulum had begun to swing in the opposite direction, with the once feared Deryni nobility—the guilty and the innocent alike—now stripped of their titles and lands, and becoming the hunted and oppressed. I feared the popular sentiment among the human majority would swing even further in that direction as the anger once directed towards those capricious lords continued to spill over onto their common-born kindred, until even the most innocent and rustic-born of Deryni would feel their wrath before it would ever return to a more even balance.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

_June 24, 918—Midsummer Day_

_Ivygreen House, Stavenham_

"Happy eighteenth birthday, darling!" Mama beamed at Rose as she laid a cloth-wrapped bundle before her. Rose's eyes lit up at the sight of the forest green package; she had been admiring that fabric at Stavenham Market just a fortnight earlier, thinking it would make a lovely overdress for the cooler months. I had shown it to Mama later, figuring if she'd need to wrap Rose's actual present in something, it might as well be something Rose would gladly make full use of.

"Do open it, Rose; there's more there than just the green wool," Mama advised. Pippa leaned forward eagerly, wanting to see what lay within the folds of fabric. Rose carefully untied the woven trim that bound the bundle together, rolling it up neatly for use later, and unfolding the green wool. Nestled within was an undergown of fine silk damask in a paler shade of green, folded neatly alongside a chemise of fine cambric, stitched at sleeves and hem with fine embroideries. And within all of these lay a small Book of Hours. I had been with Papa when he'd commissioned it in the springtime of the previous year.

"Oh, Mama, there's so _much!_" Rose exclaimed, overwhelmed by the small bounty which lay in front of her. She lifted the chemise to have a closer look at the fine stitchery ornamenting it.

"Well, I shan't have my firstborn around to spoil for much longer, shall I? Soon you'll be married, with a husband and home of your own and, God willing, your own babes to spoil in just a few years." Mama patted Rose's hand. A slight shadow flitted across Rose's features for a moment, but she smiled bravely to dispel it.

"Yes, I suppose I shall," she allowed, folding the cambric chemise carefully and laying it back on the table. I felt a sudden surge of sympathy for her. Rose would not be marrying her childhood sweetheart Jamie after all, despite her hopes and pleas; Papa had accepted another offer for her hand instead, and had made the announcement to the family at the beginning of the month. Rose had been tearful and mutinous at first, but Papa had refused to budge, so after a short time her anger had turned to resigned acceptance. At least she would not be marrying a complete stranger, nor would she be forced to leave all she knew to follow a husband to some more distant town. No, Cousin Rory would serve well enough, if she must wed someone other than the man she'd hoped to have. He was our mother's cousin—a Montrose rather than a McTavish—and had always been most kind and attentive during his occasional visits to our home, bringing sweetmeats and small gifts he had pick up from distant ports during his frequent travels, for Rory Montrose, like our Papa, was a merchant whose small fleet of ships carried our Kheldish woolen goods to the northern ports of Torenth and the Norselands, bringing back Norselander furs and Torenthi wine, silks and spices. Rose had always liked him well enough, although he did not stir her heart as Jamie had.

Pippa gave Rose the veil that Mama had helped her cut from fine linen, and which she had carefully hemmed and embroidered with the stitches Mama had taught her over the winter months, which Rose studied admiringly with many words of praise and encouragement for our little sister, and then it was my turn. I shyly handed her the book that Papa had given me the parchment to write, and had taken to the bookbinder a fortnight before so that the gift could be ready to present to Rose this morning. It was a small collection of stories I had dreamed up to while away the long evenings, set down in ink and illuminated to the best of my abilities, which were—alas—quite modest. Rose proclaimed herself quite pleased by my efforts, though, so I was well content.

Mama handed my sister a small velvet pouch. "Rory wished you to have this. It was his mother's."

Rose took the gift, dutifully opening it to pull out a folded note and a string of coral prayer beads ornamented with a cloisonné medallion of the Holy Virgin, the iconography inlaid in the Torenthi style. With a wan smile, she read the note aloud to us. "I regret that I am unable to spend your natal day with you this year, though I look forward to spending many more such celebrations with you in future. I should be back in Stavenham within the month, and look forward to seeing you then. With fond affection, Rory." Her fingers trembled slightly as she poured the loop of beads back into the pouch, handing it back to Mama. "They're lovely, Mama. Perhaps you should store them in your lockbox for safekeeping?"

"I could, but don't you wish to wear them on your belt?" Mama's warm brown eyes looked disappointed.

Rose shook her head. "They're far too dear to wear around the house; I'd be afraid I'd break or lose them. Perhaps I'll wear them to next Sunday's Mass, though; they _are_ quite nice, and Cousin Rory was very kind to send them."

Mama sighed softly, knowing the true reason for Rose's reluctance to wear Rory's gift, though she said nothing further.

#

Afterwards, we were excused from the table to pursue our own entertainments, Mama having released us from our usual duties and studies for the day in celebration of Rose's birthday, though we were expected back before sunset, for no well brought up maiden would dream of venturing forth after nightfall without a parent's or chaperone's company. Indeed, even with such company, it was rare we ventured out at night at all, for it was safer to travel through the streets of Stavenham during daylight hours, and most shops closed at sunset anyhow. Occasionally we might wish to attend a mystery play or watch a troupe of traveling acrobats or a jongleur in the market square, but again, such delights were normally attended during the daylight hours, so there was little reason to chafe over an early curfew. What would three young maidens do in Stavenham at night, at any rate? There was little else to do at those hours besides play gambling games and overindulge in strong drink at some tavern, which—even if we'd been inclined to destroy our reputations as well-bred young women by indulging in such pursuits—Papa would certainly not have allowed us to do, for fear we'd ruin our chances at marrying well, if at all!

"Would you come with me to the shrine?" Rose whispered to me as Pippa took her leave of us to run outside and play with her friends.

"Right gladly," I told her, "though if you're planning to plead your case before Saint Catulina again, I'm afraid it's hopeless. I fear she may be taking Papa's part in the argument. Perhaps, if it's Jamie you're still hoping for, you'd best take your petition to Saint Camber instead."

"Shh," Rose cautioned, looking hastily about to make sure no one had overheard. "He's been declared a heretic now, you know," she added in a voice so low I could barely hear her. "If the wrong person should overhear you, they could report you, and you might end up getting flogged." We walked around to the courtyard gate, entering the back garden. "Though look at what Jamie gave me for my birthday." She reached into the neck of her gown, pulling out a small medallion. I peered more closely at the tiny oval glinting in the summer sunlight, examining the likeness upon it and the lettering inscribed around the edge.

"Jesú, sister, don't let anyone see you wearing that!"

"Oh, I shan't," Rose said, tucking the medallion of Saint Camber securely away within her bodice. "I shall keep it well hidden. Not even Rory shall know I have it. Oh, _why_ did he have to offer for me?"

"He's always liked you best," I reminded her. "It's hardly a surprise he should ask Papa for you, now that you're of an age to wed."

"Oh, I know. I like him well enough too, but I don't love him."

"You could learn to, though."

Rose looked unconvinced. "Mayhap. But it's still not too late to pray for some way out of the match." She stopped at the doorway to the new grotto, admiring the structure. "Papa's laborers did a fine job of it, didn't they? I do wish I could convince him that Jamie would suit as a husband. After all, Papa has no sons now, since our brother died three years ago. If Jamie were to wed me, he could be trained to help manage Papa's ventures, and would be in a good place to inherit them once Papa is gone."

"Deryni aren't permitted to own land anymore; you know that," I reminded her. "Jamie's only still got a roof over his head because his father is human."

"So let _me_ inherit the land, and Jamie could inherit the business. There has to be some way, Elena!"

I shook my head. "I doubt it would be as simple as all that. Besides, what if your children end up being Deryni?"

Rose's eyes welled up with tears. "If we all lived as humans, and Jamie left off using his powers, who would ever know? Oh, why must you spoil everything, Elena!"

I looked away glumly, ashamed of myself for having upset her, and on her birthday of all days. "I'm sorry, sister. I'm just trying to be the realist here. But who knows, miracles might still happen. I _do_ wish you happy, though, no matter what you might think."

"Then pray with me anyway?"

I nodded. We entered the grotto, each of us lighting a candle before kneeling reverently before the small shrine to Saint Catulina. Rose's lips moved in fervent silent prayer, doubtless petitioning the saint to intercede for her so that she could wed her beloved Jamie. After a moment, I closed my eyes and added my own petitions.

We had just finished our devotions and stood when a quiet sound startled us. I suppressed the urge to leap back as Papa appeared before us, seemingly through the rear wall of the grotto. A moment later, another man miraculously appeared—the Deryni laborer, Master Rylan. They looked as surprised to see us there as we were to see them, Papa crossing himself hastily as if we'd given him a great fright.

Master Rylan arched his brow at Papa, a wry smile crossing his face. "Well, I suppose that answers the question of how soon you should tell your daughters about our latest project."

#

"Do _not_ tell Pippa about this," Papa cautioned us. "She hasn't learned enough discretion yet to be trusted with the secret."

"We won't," I assured him, glancing back and forth between him and Master Rylan, whose faint smile betrayed no hint of the mystery the two were about to disclose.

"I'll keep an eye on the garden," Master Rylan offered, stepping forward to stand next to the grotto's entrance. I stepped closer to Papa, feeling a bit self-conscious about the Deryni man's unexpected proximity to me. The first time I had seen him, I had assumed him to be older than Papa, but now that the sunlight from the garden highlighted him, I realized that what I had taken to be dull graying hair on that first meeting had been nothing more than rock dust covering the natural color and shine of dark brown hair. Construction on the grotto's stonework had long since ended, though, and now I could see that the Deryni was younger than I'd first thought. No mere youth, of course—not if he was a fully trained Deryni Healer—but hardly Papa's age either.

"All right, then." Papa beckoned to me and Rose, appearing nervous. "This way, girls."

We both stared at him, for 'this way' looked to lead straight to the cavern wall, but Rose eventually took a tentative step forward. I followed her lead, staring in disbelief as Papa took Rose's hand and—as far as I could tell, at least—brought her straight through the wall. They vanished from my sight briefly, then Papa returned alone, reaching for my hand. I took his, feeling his strong fingers clasp my trembling ones, and then he led me through the wall as well.

Although as I passed through it, I realized it wasn't a wall, or at least, it wasn't a solid wall as it had appeared to be. Certainly there was some sort of barrier there, for I felt a tingling of energies and a slight resistance as I passed through the space where I had expected a wall to be, but the barrier let me through it nonetheless. As I stepped through, I found myself in a small chamber, several yards long from side to side, yet no more than three feet separated the barrier I had just come through and another wall in front of us, one which looked to be made of solid stonework. I reached out and felt it. Yes, this part of the second wall was just as solid as it appeared to be.

I glanced at Rose, who stood next to a small table on which a lamp sat, the sole illumination in this hidden corridor. Her eyes were huge in her face. I imagined mine must have been as well.

"What is this place, Papa?" Rose asked, "and how were we able to walk through the grotto wall?"

Papa turned to face us both, his eyes solemn. "This is a hiding place, a secret sanctuary for Deryni who need a refuge until they can escape Stavenham. It is becoming too risky for them to remain here any longer, now that the _Custodes Fidei_ are actively seeking out even those Deryni who have given up the use of their powers. I've been able to get a few out of the Kingdom on my ships, though more show up in the port every week, seeking work, seeking shelter, and most of all, seeking to avoid the notice of the _Custodes_. Two weeks ago, I had my workmen seal off one end of our warehouse that abuts the garden wall to create this hidden chamber. It's narrow because we couldn't afford to make the inside of the warehouse look noticeably shorter than the outside, but several people can conceal themselves in here if they have to until we can get them onto the next of my ships to leave port, or until they decide to escape Stavenham some other way. It's cramped quarters, but better than a prison cell or, worse, death at the stake."

"But…isn't it dangerous to help them, Papa?" Rose said, looking frightened. "Surely, if they're running away from the authorities, they must have committed some crime! It's no crime to simply _be_ Deryni, is it, Papa, if one doesn't use magic? It's only their magic that's been declared anathema, I thought…." I wondered if this was the first time she'd ever fully realized what peril her beloved Jamie was in simply for being what he was.

Papa shook his head. "No, my darling. That might officially be the case still, but more often than not now, Deryni are being denounced and falsely charged with all manner of crimes in order to provide an excuse to defraud them, or even to execute them, for no reason other than hatred and fear of their kind. Which is why you must keep this chamber in the strictest confidence, not breathing a word about it to anyone, not even your mother. She is aware it exists, but I have not told her where to find it, for her own safety. I wouldn't have told you, except that you happened upon my secret, and besides that…." He gave a wan smile. "Well, it's best that _someone_ besides me should know of it. Master Rylan knows, of course, and the few Deryni workmen he enlisted to help build it, but they will all be on their way to safer harbors soon, God willing."

I felt a small frisson of fear, wondering if Papa feared being caught at his dangerous game of smuggling Deryni passengers or crew out from under the watchful eye of _Custodes_ soldiers, who certainly must be guarding the ports vigilantly if things had gotten as bad as Papa believed they were. Was that why he wanted to pass on his secret to someone else, so that we could continue his efforts if something were to happen to him? It was a thought I couldn't bear to think about, so I hastily diverted my thoughts to the other question at hand. "You said you would explain about the grotto wall."

"Ah, yes. That was Master Rylan's doing. It will let Deryni through and humans of my bloodline alone, but will keep all others out unless a Deryni brings him through it."

"It's magic, then?"

Papa studied the wall behind me thoughtfully. "I don't know if the wall itself is magic, or if the magic lay merely in the making of it. But for all intents and purposes, yes, I suppose it is."

Rose turned pale, crossing herself. "Papa, you mustn't get caught!"

He smiled. "I intend not to, sweeting. But you both understand the need for utmost discretion?"

We both nodded.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

_July 30, 918-morning_

_Ivygreen House, Stavenham_

"Hurry up, Pips, we're going to get to market late if you keep dawdling." Rose tapped her foot impatiently as we waited just outside for our youngest sister to catch up with us. The market would be open for most of the day, of course, but Rose preferred to visit the merchant stalls as early as possible before the goods were picked over by so many customers that the best choices would be gone already.

Pippa paused in the middle of our street, frowning at her belt pouch. "Oh, bother, this is the one with the hole in the seam, isn't it? Where's my other pouch? That's the one with my farthings in it!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" I exclaimed. "Pippa, you must take better care of your things. Your new pouch is on the sideboard next to the entryway to the kitchen."

"I don't recall putting it there," she said with a slight frown.

"That's because _I _did, because you'd left it on the floor and I was tired of tripping over it. I figured you'd see it there as we walked out."

Pippa rolled her eyes at me, flouncing back inside.

#

_July 30, 918—midday_

_The Port of Stavenham_

"Look, there she is!" Pippa jumped up and down on the dock excitedly as she spotted the flagship of Papa's small merchant fleet in the distance, her stately sails billowing as they caught the wind. _Excelsior_ moved slowly but steadily closer to shore as we girls watched. She would remain in port for the next ten days while the crew unloaded its current cargo and reloaded her hold, spending a few days resting with their families before setting forth again for Torenth. When she set forth again, Papa planned that she would also be carrying a few extra passengers, some of whom would not be listed on the official ship manifest.

Of course, Pippa knew nothing of that plan, but Rose and I exchanged a look over her head. She had learned just the day before that Jamie and his family would be aboard that ship when she left port again, hoping to make new lives for themselves someplace where they might live in greater safety than could be found anywhere in Gwynedd. While Rose yearned to go with them, she had already exchanged betrothal vows with Rory. They were due to wed at the end of August, on Saint Augustine's Day. At any rate, she could hardly have hoped to steal away on one of Papa's own ships; the entire crew would have known who she was!

"Yes, that's definitely _Excelsior_," Rose affirmed, forcing a smile at Pippa's excitement. "But she probably won't dock until a bit later today, and we'll only be in the way if we stay here while they try to unload. We can come back by tomorrow and see if Captain Blumenthal will allow us aboard, if that's what you're hoping for."

"Oh, I just want to see what they brought back," Pippa told her, her eyes shining.

Rose laughed. "Well, that's easy enough found out. Just ask Papa; I'm sure he'll be glad enough to show you what his factor has brought back with him once they're done offloading the crates into our warehouses."

My sisters continued to talk, but my thoughts wandered as I watched the ships in the far distance, deceptively small against the vast expanse of ocean before us. I wondered what it would be like to live out there in the lands beyond that shining sea. The world seemed so huge, as I stood there on that crowded pier looking out at the distant horizon, and I felt almost dwarfed into insignificance in comparison. Not for the first time, I wished I'd been born a son, that I might be allowed to travel beyond Stavenham into those distant lands where Papa sometimes wandered even now that he had other men to carry out his business ventures for him. Women rarely traveled, not unless their husbands did and were willing to bring them along. Traveling was much more difficult with womenfolk in tow, Papa had informed me gently when I'd once broached the subject as a young child. Unless one had friends to stay with all along the way, accommodations were apt to be rough and quite unsuited to gently-raised maidens and decorous wives. Still, Mama had managed to convince him to take her on his travels a time or two when she was yet a young bride, so there was still hope for me to see some of the world. I should just have to take care to marry a merchant, one indulgent enough to cater to my whim to see more of the world than just Stavenham and its close environs.

My sisters were turning away from the approaching ships, their steps taking them back towards our father's storehouses. I followed reluctantly behind, stealing a few envious glances back at Papa's ship and the ones already docked in port, their busy crews offloading cargo or loading crates and passengers. It was not that I wished to be like Jamie's family, forced to leave a home I loved to seek better fortune elsewhere. Like most women, I wanted a home and stability. Still, was it wrong for me to occasionally want a little more?

"Elena, keep up!" Rose had stopped, her impatient look turned towards me now.

I waved at my sisters and quickened my steps towards our properties.

#

It was just outside of Papa's storehouse that Pippa asked the innocent question that would change all of our lives forever.

"Is Eglantine a Deryni?"

Rose looked over at me, startled, answering our sister in a hushed whisper. "No, of course not!" she assured Pippa, though she and I both knew her answer to be a lie. "You mustn't say such things, Pips!"

"Maybe we should head home," I said uneasily, glancing around quickly to see if anyone had overheard. I didn't see anyone too close by, but we'd just passed an open doorway, and who knew who might have been standing just within? "Mama will be expecting us home soon anyway," I added, trying to act casual so Pippa wouldn't sense she was being maneuvered and ask outright what the rush was.

"But Eglantine can start fires with just her fingers!" Pippa insisted. "I saw her do it just this morning, when I went to ask her if we had meat rolls left over that I could wrap and carry to market in my pouch. The stove had gone out and she had to relight it."

"Hush, Pips!" Rose hissed, looking stricken.

"You must have imagined it," I soothed, for Pippa was beginning to look mutinous. "Sometimes, if a person holds the flint just so, and it's a small piece, it's hard to tell they're holding anything."

"I know what I saw," my baby sister declared.

Rose gave me a despairing look over Pippa's head. "You're right, Elena, it's time we were getting back. We've lessons to finish before Papa gets home this evening." Swiftly she herded us back towards Ivygreen House before Pippa could say anything more, though as we walked quickly along the boardwalk, I thought I saw someone watching us at a window. I hoped whoever it was had not been paying heed to our conversation, but a shiver of fear ran through me nonetheless.

#

Eglantine's face paled as Papa questioned her about her use of magic in the kitchen that morning. Our kitchen maid was a bit simple-minded, but not so much so that she could not grasp the peril we were faced with now that Pippa had asked her questions about Deryni magic out in the open, where strangers might have been listening.

"I dinnae mean nae harm, Master McTavish! I couldnae get th' kitchen fires tae light wi' th' flint an' steel—I ain't use tae it yet, y'see—an' everyone had left th' house a'ready, so I dinnae think nae-one would see me! I dinnae ken th' young mistress hae come back till after tha', master. I ken no' tae use me powers wi' th' bairn aboot, but she was off tae market, I thought!"

Papa excused Eglantine from the room. His gaze met Mama's, looking worried. "Well, what's done is done. I suppose we must hope for the best but plan for the worst. Hopefully no one overheard the girls, but just in case, I'd best let Master Rylan know." He rose from his chair. "We'll have to figure out some way to move the Deryni out of kingdom ahead of schedule, though Jesú knows I don't see how that will be possible, with only one ship in port and it still laden with cargo! Maybe Rylan will have some ideas, though. I don't think we can afford to wait another week, not now. I've promised three families transport, not to mention Rylan, the four new storehouse hands, and now Eglantine shall need to leave as well, but that's far too long for them all to hide in cramped quarters, and there's too much risk of discovery if they stay." He glanced at me. "Elena, come with me. If we do need to summon the families, I may need your assistance. Rose, the secret room will need more provisions in case our evacuees have to remain hidden for longer than a day. Please help your mother in seeing to that."

#

"It's my own fault," Papa said gravely, after informing Master Rylan of what had happened. "I've sheltered the child so much, knowing her to be the curious sort and not trusting in her discretion if she were to find out about what we've been doing here, that I failed to convey to Philippa what harm such questions could pose if asked openly." He buried his head in his hands. "And how do I explain to a child that what pious-seeming men say from the pulpit is not always what they live by, at least where you Deryni are concerned, but just because _they_ don't match life to words doesn't mean that the teachings themselves are wrong? I've tried to teach my daughters how to serve a God who said to 'love your neighbor,' but how do I stand fast against ordained servants of that same God who now tell us that a man is no longer our neighbor if he's Deryni?" Papa sighed, looking back up at his hired man, who simply leaned back against the warehouse wall, his face impassive. "The world changes, Rylan, and the Church's teachings along with it, it seems—or at least the teachings of certain churchmen—twisting with every shift in the wind. Yet if there are no absolute Truths to stand upon anymore, no beliefs on which we can rely to guide our moral compass, then what have we left to us but chaos, with only those in power to dictate to us what is 'right' in their eyes and the defenseless left to their mercies? No, no matter what the Church might be saying _this_ week, nor how many new orders like the _Custodes_ spring up to enforce more fashionable views, I cannot—_will_ not—believe that 'love thy neighbor as thyself' no longer holds true, and that we are not all children of the same loving Father." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rylan. We've put you and yours in a precarious situation, I'm afraid. What can I do to help make things right?"

Rylan pondered the situation, then spoke at last. "I have an idea, Andrew, but I'll need the help of other Deryni to do it. There is a way that Deryni can create a Transfer Portal—it's a bit like a magical gateway—from one location to any other place where a Portal has already been created, if the user knows of another Portal to go to. I can build one here, if you'll allow me to, and it would allow Deryni to escape from here in a manner that no human pursuer could ever follow, unless he were aided by another Deryni who knew exactly where we were going and how to get there." He studied Papa, his eyes solemn. "I know you accept my people as we are, and that you understand that at least some of our powers are innate gifts we are born with. But I also know how uneasy you are about overt uses of ritual magic, and not simply because of the risks to us all if we're discovered. Would your conscience be flexible enough to allow us to use our magic to create such a means of escape, given our great need? We would not require you to participate, but I would rather not create such a Portal on your property against your consent."

Papa nodded. "You have that, Rylan. Do whatever it is you need to do." He paused. "Where would you build it, though? I imagine you'd need to put it someplace private, but easy to get to quickly."

"Yes, and also someplace where others coming after us might be able to find it." Rylan gave my father a wry smile. "We're hardly going to be the last Deryni to come through Stavenham looking for passage to lands beyond, after all. And assuming no one reports little Pippa's words to the authorities, you'll still be here to guide them. But carrying Deryni passengers on your ships is far too great a risk for us to ask of you anymore, my friend. If you have a Transfer Portal on your grounds, I assure you there will be at least a few Deryni who would gladly take advantage of such an asset, at least if they know of other Portals they might safely go to. May we use your grotto?" Master Rylan glanced at me for the first time with a faint grin. "I doubt the _Custodes_ would think to make too painstaking a search of a shrine to St. Catulina. Virtuous maidens are so very rarely a threat to the Kingdom, after all. And it has the added virtue of being convenient to both the hidden room in the warehouse and your home, so if you and yours are in need of a quick escape, some of us could carry you through to a place of safety. Though hopefully it won't ever come down to that." The Deryni gave Papa a look of deep respect. "I know how much you stand to lose here, Master Andrew, and how much you've risked for us already. Thank you."

"I only wish I could do more," Papa said, shaking his head sadly.

#

_July 31, 918—St. Neot's Day, afternoon_

_Ivygreen House, Stavenham_

The next day started uneventfully enough. As morning turned into early afternoon, we all began to breathe easier, hoping the threat of discovery had passed. After the noonday meal, Papa ventured forth to his ship and to his warehouses as usual, ostensibly to see how the offloading of _Excelsior_'s cargo was coming along, although I suspected he also planned to check in with Master Rylan at some point to ensure that all of the Deryni in their care had been notified of the potential danger and were hidden safely away, ready to move on to new locations and new lives as soon as night fell. A few had stolen away the night before, Rylan had informed Papa, taking advantage of the newly created Portal to escape as soon as the opportunity arose, yet some had chosen to remain behind for one more day—Jamie's family among them—so they might have a few hours more to pack their most cherished possessions in haste and permanently sever their last remaining connections with their lives here in Stavenham before stealing away to Papa's shelter under cover of the remaining darkness, the last of the stragglers arriving to the secret sanctuary just before dawn. A few had brought with them other Deryni heretofore unknown to our family—friends and relatives of theirs who also wished to steal away to safety. Among those remaining, it had been agreed that they would all leave Stavenham together, in ones and twos as the Portal would allow, but all departing for the same place, at least at first. Several of the remaining Deryni were women and children, and the menfolk among them felt they would be safer traveling in numbers, so that even the widows and orphans might have the protection of armed men should the need arise. Master Rylan had told Papa that he would be going through the Portal last, and that once everyone had been settled into new places of safety, he might even return to Stavenham from time to time. For there would be other Deryni fleeing to Stavenham over the following days and weeks, he was sure, all needing some safe way to travel to the havens beyond our port, and Rylan was willing to assume the risk of showing them where the Portal was and escorting them to safety if need be. All our family would need to do would be to look the other way if Deryni happened to steal through our back garden under cover of darkness.

That, at least, had been the plan as Papa and Master Rylan had discussed it at length the night before, as Deryni were arriving and saying their farewells before departing, or else settling into the secret chamber to await the coming nightfall and the planned exodus. But that plan, as plans are wont to do, came to naught with a few sharp raps upon our door and the cry, "Open up in the name of the Bishop!"


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

_July 31, 918—St. Neot's Day, mid-afternoon_

_Ivygreen House, Stavenham_

"Open up in the name of the Bishop!"

I peeked through the shutters, feeling slightly faint as I saw the armed men standing outside our door, our father standing with them, his hands bound behind his back. Stepping quickly back before anyone could catch sight of me, I glanced at Mama. "They've got Papa," I told her.

Her eyes widened with alarm. She angled her head towards the back door, the one that led to the garden. "Go, then, quickly! Warn Master Rylan. I'll make a show of fumbling with the door locks, but I can't hold them out for long; they'll break the door down if I do.

I needed no further urging. I ran to the rear of our home, pausing at the back door only long enough to take a furtive peek around the corner to see if the _Custodes_ had entered the courtyard garden yet. I saw no signs of forced entry at the street-side gate, so I dashed outside, praying that I might make it across the garden to the grotto unnoticed. No one accosted me as I reached the grotto's entrance. I breathed a quick prayer of thanksgiving before plunging through the solid-looking wall behind Saint Catulina's shrine.

I nearly tripped over a seated boy, flailing my arms to regain my balance. A woman caught me, helped me stay upright. _What's the matter, child?_ I heard in my mind. _Are they here?_

I took a quick look around the narrow chamber, its shadows dispelled by nothing more than a single candle's light. It was packed full, with people standing or sitting along the wall down its entire length, a few of the adults holding children in their laps or bundles containing all the goods they dared carry with them. The youngest of the children all appeared to be asleep, much to my relief, for while the secret room was well camouflaged, I doubted it was soundproof.

"The _Custodes_ are here!" I whispered as loudly as I dared, trusting that the Deryni, with their mind-powers, would relay my message to the far ends of the chamber where my voice would not reach. "They have Papa, and they've ordered us to allow them entry. We daren't refuse them, so you must remain hidden here while they search the grounds. Once they've left, I'll try to return to let you know."

Master Rylan had reached my side by then. He shook his head, his face pale in the dim light. "No, Elena, it's not safe for you to go back. Even if you manage to make it back to the house, you'd surely be questioned, and someone might think to take a closer look at the grotto and the secrets it conceals. It's best if you remain here for the time being."

My heart longed to be with my family, to know what was going on with them, but I knew he was right. If I left now, I would surely endanger all that Papa had worked so hard for. I nodded my agreement.

Rylan smiled encouragement at me, then turned to the woman who had helped me regain my balance earlier. "Nora, I think we should blow out the candle, just to be safe."

"The candle? Why?" I stared at him in alarm, feeling a slight shiver course through me, for I'd always harbored a fear of total darkness, and in this windowless room there would be no light available at all despite the afternoon hour. And who knew how long we'd be cooped up in here?

Nora complied even as Master Rylan took my hand, easing me to a spot on the floor. _There is a small peephole between this chamber and the grotto_, he explained mind-to-mind_. It faces directly towards the grotto entrance. We needed some way to ensure that no one was about and that it would be safe to leave this chamber, but there was a small chance that the candle's light—dim as it was—might have shone through the tiny chink and alerted an observant searcher to our presence within. I promise the darkness won't harm you, Mistress Elena. Right now there is far more to be feared from those moving about in the daylight._

#

_July 31, 918—St. Neot's Day, late afternoon_

_ The Secret Sanctuary, Stavenham_

All remained quiet for about a quarter of an hour. Master Rylan and I took turns at the peephole, anxiously searching our limited view for any signs of movement. I felt sure that if it were safe for us to come out, someone would have been sent to notify us—Rose, perhaps, or maybe Papa himself—but no one came. I knew the _Custodes_ were quite likely questioning my family. Had the authorities noticed my absence, I wondered, or were they even aware that there was a third daughter to be questioned? Were they even now searching the grounds for me?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, I saw the first soldier cross the courtyard, several yards away from the grotto entrance. He wore the black cassocks and red and gold cincture of the _Equites Custodes Fidei_, although as I watched, more men came into view, some dressed as _Custodes_ but others wearing the Bishop's colors. Hired soldiers, then, perhaps men selected from Stavenham's citizenry, though their faces looked unfamiliar, so perhaps not.

Two men entered the grotto then. I left off looking through the peephole, terrified lest they should notice it, and drew the dark flap of cloth down over it, though surely it could not lend any more darkness than the pitch black of the chamber around me. I could still hear them moving about on the other side of the wall, talking to each other and making the occasional tapping sound—perhaps the sound of a sword or staff tapping on stone?—as they explored the grotto.

"Doesn't appear to be anyone in here," one man said. "I don't think she's fled here; if she did, she didn't stop to pray." A quiet chuckle.

"Well, she didn't stop to light the candle, at any rate,' the other voice agreed. "But you're probably right. What's beyond this garden wall, though?"

"Storehouses, a row of them. I think the ones directly behind this land belong to McTavish."

"That's what I thought. They've been searched already, haven't they?"

A loud clunk sounded against the wall right below my ear and I nearly gasped aloud, startled. "Aye, at least the first has. That's where we found McTavish. I assume they've tossed the second and third storehouses as well by now, as well as that ship of his." The voices sounded very close now, just on the other side of the wall. "Well, this is new stonework right enough, but it doesn't seem to be anything more than it looks to be. Whose shrine is that anyway?"

A moment's silence, then a quiet laugh. "Saint Catulina's. Aye, just what you'd expect from a man with a surfeit of daughters and no sons. Too bad it's not a shrine to that Deryni heretic; we'd have all the evidence we need to torch the place."

A chuckle. "What, we don't have evidence enough yet?"

The men withdrew, their footfalls and voices receding in the distance. I hugged myself against a sudden chill.

#

I smelled the smoke before I saw it or heard the roar and crackle of the fire that caused it, but after a moment I felt someone moving towards the wall, and surmised it was Master Rylan risking a peek through the peephole. After an interminable moment, my guess was confirmed as I felt his mind brush mine. _Sit, Mistress Elena. It's best that you don't see this._

If he'd hoped to allay my fears, of course that was the wrong thing to say. "I _need_ to see, Master Rylan," I muttered as quietly as I could. "If I don't know what's happening out there, I may go mad."

He mentally urged me to remain silent, but in answer to my protest he began to share the images of what he was viewing, the pictures flitting into my mind as vividly as if it were my eye pressed to the tiny chink in the wall instead of his. My mind's eye saw Ivygreen, her roof ablaze, smoke pouring out of each window as the flames crackled loudly. A few piercing screams echoed, all the louder for the silence surrounding me in the hidden chamber, but I could not see who they came from. Was it my family, still trapped within my childhood home, screaming in terror as they faced their fiery deaths? Or had my family been taken elsewhere before the fires were set, and were the screams simply the alarmed cries of neighbors fearing for our safety or their own?

The rear door of my home opened, and someone ran out...a woman, her face and form smudged with soot and her hair drenched with sweat, yet despite that I recognized her. It was Rose, fleeing for her safety, running through the garden towards us. Towards the Shrine of St. Catulina.

Silently, I began to pray, though even as I did so, I felt torn. I wished my sister safe, yet I feared she would be pursued, and that her flight towards our hiding place would spell all our deaths. If she were to simply disappear through the grotto wall in plain sight of a _Custodes_ pursuer, he would know no miracle of Saint Catulina's had occurred to save the frightened maiden, and the grotto and warehouse would be searched more thoroughly, taken apart stone by stone if need be, until our secret chamber had been found.

As if summoned by my fears, a second figure entered our line of sight at that moment. A soldier, by his dress. Not one of the _Custodes_ soldiers, but almost certainly here at their command. He swiftly overtook my sister, his long legs eating up the ground between them with little effort, while hers were hampered by her long skirts. As she approached the entrance to the grotto, he reached for her, yanking her back and tossing her to the ground. She lay winded from her hard fall, gasping for breath on the earth a mere yard outside the artificial cavern's entrance, her eyes pleading, one hand held out before her as if entreating Saint Catulina's intervention.

The soldier grabbed her roughly, turning her face-up, forcing her to look at him as he pinned her to the ground. I held my breath, praying he intended nothing more than capture of a fleeing prisoner. Perhaps he would yet show mercy. Rose was truly innocent; she had done even less than I had to assist Papa in harboring the Deryni fugitives—meager as my own involvement had been—aside from keeping silent about his activities. Surely the _Custodes_ would not condemn a dutiful daughter for not turning against her own father? No, this man may be no _Custodes_ himself, but he was here at the behest of their order, and surely the priests who had commanded this raid on my father's household would not condone wanton violence, much less a carnal assault against any woman, especially one who was captured while invoking the aid of Catulina, the patron of virtuous maidens?

My sister's lips moved, and though I could not hear what she whispered, I thought I saw them form the words, "Saint Catulina preserve me!"

At that moment, another man stepped into view. He, unlike the soldier, wore the long black gown and red and gold regalia of a _Custodes_ priest and, if I was reading the regalia aright, one of high rank. An Inquisitor, perhaps? The older man frowned at the soldier who looked shamefacedly up at him, easing his body off his captive's, although not relaxing his hold on her enough for her to escape.

The priest arched an eyebrow at the soldier, speaking quietly, though loud enough to be heard over the more distant crackling flames. "When I said to take the prisoner, this was not precisely what I meant." The voice fairly dripped with irony.

The soldier swallowed. "Beg pardon, Father. I…ah…was carried away for a moment."

Rose began to weep, racking sobs shaking her form. "Mercy, Father! Please don't let him hurt me." The priest looked as if he might relent. I released the breath I'd forgotten I was holding in a relieved sigh, thankful that Saint Catulina had evidently seen fit to rescue my sister in her time of need, even if her salvation had come in the unlikely form of a _Custodes_ priest.

And then, just at the moment when it looked as if Rose might be spared, something fell from the neckline of her gown, the metallic oval glinting redly in the rays of the setting sun. The priest's eye was drawn to it, and he frowned. "What saint's medallion is that she's wearing?" he asked the soldier.

Rose stared up at the priest, stricken. The soldier turned it over, inspected the likeness stamped upon the medallion. I buried my face in Master Rylan's shoulder, suppressing a groan.

"It's the heretic Camber MacRorie, Father!"

The _Custodes_ priest's eyes blazed with indignant fire. He studied the two figures before him—the soldier and the maiden—stone-faced before pronouncing his judgment. "_Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis,_" he muttered with a curt nod at the soldier, turning his back on both and walking briskly away.

Master Rylan stopped showing me the images after that, and judging from the turn of his body away from the wall, I gathered he had stopped watching as well. But I needed no sight to tell me what was happening just outside the grotto entrance, for my sister's pleading cries and the man's mocking laughter told me more than I wanted to know.

#

_July 31, 918—St. Neot's Day, sunset_

_ The Secret Sanctuary, Stavenham_

The cries eventually stopped, fading into soft weeping, then a rustle of motion and the sounds of other men approaching. Master Rylan risked another quick peek then, conveying to me through his Mind-Speech that they were carrying my sister away, although he still refused to let me see what he saw. He sent me a glimpse of Ivygreen House, though, its charred shell still smoldering, though Stavenham's bucket brigade had put an end to the worst of the conflagration to ensure the destruction would not spread to the neighboring buildings.

_Come with us when we leave, Mistress Elena. There is nothing left here for you now, and it's not safe for you to stay even if anyone remains who is able to harbor you._

I bit back a sob, terrified that if I let loose the flood of emotion welling up within me, the _Custodes_ would hear, would come back and unleash their terrible destruction on the rest of us who had remained hidden from their wrath. I did not dare speak, but I thought my reply, hoping that Master Rylan would be able to hear my answer through the link he had established between us. _But…my family! I can't leave them behind, not knowing if they still live or not!_

_ I will return once you are safe and find out for you. But you must come with us. If I can—if they are not beyond all hope of rescue—I will do what I am able to save your family as well. _Master Rylan brushed my brow lightly then, and as he did so, I felt a feeling of numbness sweep through me. Not a physical numbness, but more of an emotional one, distancing me from the pain of what I was experiencing. I knew that later, once the danger had passed, my feelings would doubtless return, would be just as intense as they had been before he touched my mind in that way, but for the moment I was as one watching from a distance, understanding what was happening but feeling as though it were happening to someone else. It was relief of a sort.

There were more shouts and cries outside, but they were distant ones. Master Rylan surveyed the view through the peephole again, but he could not see any cause for the commotion. Soon, however, we all felt the reason for the excitement, for the small chamber—already overly warm due to the summer heat and the crush of bodies packed within its limited confines—grew sweltering hot. The snap and crackle of feeding flames began anew, this time much closer than they'd been before. A feeling of dread surged through me just as the first tendrils of fresh smoke began to waft into the room.

_ They've torched the warehouses, _Rylan Mind-Spoke to me, confirming my fears. _We will be forced to flee soon, lest we be overcome by the smoke or be roasted by the rising heat._

Around me, the Deryni fugitives struggled against the urge to cough. Someone reached for my arm, groping down its length in the darkness until they reached my hand, and shoved something damp into it. A woman's voice entered my mind. _Tie it over your nose and mouth; it will help screen out the smoke._

I complied quickly, breathing a little more easily afterwards, though the makeshift mask was uncomfortable and I wondered what had been used to make it. _Can we not leave now? _I thought, fearing we would all perish if we did not.

_It is almost dark enough outside now, _Rylan said after a moment, _but if any movement is spotted within the grotto, the Custodes will return, and we'll suffer a fiery death either way. Our only hope is the cover of darkness. A few minutes more, I think, if we can hold out that much longer._

My father's storehouses were mostly built of stone, though the roof and its supports were wooden, as were the crates containing various goods, some more flammable than others. I hoped that the stonework would keep the building we were in from burning quickly, and that the roof would not cave in upon us before we could all escape.

Someone whimpered quietly in the darkness. I knew not if it was from fear or pain; already I could feel my skin begin to burn, as one who had stayed outside in the hot summer sun too long.

It seemed a small eternity before Master Rylan said, _It's time, I think. _ The message spread silently throughout the room. He gave me into someone else's keeping and strode cautiously through the wall. I felt for the flap of cloth over the peephole, lifting it to see him standing at the grotto entrance, peering out intently into the dark courtyard beyond. He gave a signal, and at that cue, the Deryni began to move out, entering the grotto in ones and twos, each stepping on a certain flagstone in the grotto's floor and disappearing from sight. After a few such groups had fled, a hand gently took my arm, and a voice sounded in my mind. _We're next, Mistress Elena._ I followed the woman into the grotto and the great unknown.


	5. Part Five & Epilogue

**Part Five**

_July 31, 918-Night_

_Somewhere in Sostra, Torenth_

One moment I was suspended in darkness; in the next, I found myself standing on a cobblestone in a dead-end alley of some strange town. Nora (for it was she who had brought me through the Transfer Portal) gently led me to one side. No sooner had we moved out of the way than the next pair of Deryni—an elderly woman carrying a sleeping child—came through. She in turn stepped off the Portal stone quickly to allow the next evacuees to arrive.

There was a doorway close by, set into one of the alley walls. It appeared to be the rear entrance to some establishment, and as I watched a door opened and a woman of middling years urged us to enter. We filed through and found ourselves in a courtyard not too unlike the garden at Ivygreen. After a moment I realized that this corner of the garden was mostly planted with medicinal herbs, though a bright profusion of ornamental plants flowered in the plant beds on the other side of the courtyard.

Nora reached over to tug the mask off my face. The cloth was almost completely dry now, and as she handed it back to me, I noticed it was of the same fabric as her gown's skirts, now ripped to tatters, although her chemise and most of her undergown remained intact. Another woman's clothing was in similar disarray. I gathered that they had sacrificed the strips of fabric that had been used to create our makeshift masks to guard our lungs from the harsh smoke of the warehouse fire.

Others came to greet us then. I recognized some as the Deryni who had chosen to leave Stavenham the previous evening, but the rest appeared to be locals, dressed in the colors of some household's servants. They shepherded the new arrivals into a nearby building, where they began to tend to those among us who were more severely injured. As my dazed mind took in my new surroundings and began to make sense of what was happening, one of the strangers approached me.

"How badly are you hurt?" The man's voice was strongly accented, and I had to listen carefully to understand him. It dawned on me that I had no idea where I was now, or even if I was still in Gwynedd.

"My skin and eyes sting a bit from the heat and smoke, but I'm just thirsty and very tired," I heard myself saying, though my voice sounded oddly distant and slightly slurred. Nora turned towards me, a look of concern in her eyes, and said something to the man that I couldn't understand. I thought she might have been speaking in Torenthi—I had learned a smattering of the language from watching my father negotiate with some of the Torenthi merchants and their factors whose business ventures brought them to Stavenham Port, and a word here and there sounded familiar—but before I could puzzle out what she was saying, I felt my knees give way from under me, and my world faded to black.

#

When I revived from my swoon, I found myself on a pallet. Master Rylan was seated close by, speaking quietly with Nora.

"...too dangerous to return for the time being. Maybe in a few more evenings it will be safe enough to risk a quick hop back to Stavenham to find out what's happened there, but the _Custodes_ know that they're missing a member of the family, and they'll be sweeping the neighborhood quite vigilantly trying to find her. She's safest here for now."

"For now, yes, but she can hardly remain here forever! What's to become of her?"

Rylan sighed. "I imagine that will depend in large part on what _she_ chooses. She may prefer to travel with her former neighbors south to Corwyn, but as for myself, I think that's still too close to Gwynedd to be worth the risk of trying to re-establish a life there, despite its somewhat autonomous state. I could take her on with me to Tralia, if she's willing."

"A young unmarried woman traveling through Torenth and Tralia in the company of a widower, unchaperoned, is bound to raise eyebrows, Rylan. I'm not sure you'd be doing her much of a favor."

"I know. I'd offer for her, if it comes down to that. She hasn't many options before her, though, and she's too bright a lass not to recognize that. I'll not force her into marriage—God knows I don't want an unwilling bride!—but I'll put the offer before her. Others might be willing to take her in as well; we all owe her father a life debt." He paused, as if suddenly aware that I was awake and listening, and turned to face me. "Ah! Mistress Elena, how are you feeling?" The Healer rose to move towards me, crouching beside my pallet and taking my wrist in his gentle yet firm grasp. His eyes looked beyond me, somewhat unfocused, as if listening intently for something. After a short while, he nodded and turned his gaze upon me with a sympathetic smile.

"Well, your color is much better now and your pulse is no more rapid than one might expect from one who must be frightened half out of your mind. Mistress Galina—she's the Healer who invited you into the courtyard earlier—has treated your burns already, so hopefully you'll feel much better now than when you passed out."

I glanced around at our makeshift shelter, noting the rows of pallets along the wall, with most of the other refugees already sleeping off the fatigue of the last several anxious hours, despite the relative earliness of the night. Or at least it had been early evening the last time I'd been aware of the passage of time. "How long have I been out?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

"About two hours in all," the Healer said. "You weren't unconscious all that long, but you needed rest, so the first time you began to stir, Mistress Galina went ahead and put you back to sleep for a bit. She was already working on healing you at the time, and you were still in shock. She thought it best that you sleep until your physical injuries had been healed."

I glanced at my arms, noting that the fierce pink of the burns that had colored my skin earlier had subsided to my naturally fair complexion. "Is this a convent infirmary, then?" A religious house seemed an odd place to bring a number of Deryni refugees, yet I had heard that the Church of Torenth had a far more lenient view of Deryni than did the Church of Gwynedd, so perhaps it was not so strange in their eyes.

"No, nothing like that." The Deryni Healer seemed to blush slightly in the dim hearth light. "We've been allowed to lodge for the night in the hall of a...Torenthi businesswoman of some means. Mistress Galina is in her service as her personal Healer. Both are in sympathy with the Deryni in Gwynedd and have offered up this home as a temporary refuge for those in need of a place to stay while fleeing the _Custodes_. It's just for the night; most of us will be heading for other towns or kingdoms once we've had a chance to rest and consider all the options." He paused, glancing uncertainly back at Nora, then back at me. "You can't return to Stavenham now, Mistress Elena, but I'm willing to take you on to Tralia with me, if you wish. I have distant kindred there, and Healers rarely have trouble finding a decent situation in any case, so I hope to be settled in somewhere in short order. Though if you'd prefer to continue on with someone else, that's up to you. There are some families who might be able to take you in, if you'd find traveling on with me...awkward."

I forced myself to keep my composure, unwilling to give in to my grief before these kind folk who had done so much for me already. "I know I can't return to Stavenham now, but...what of later? Can't I ever return home?"

Nora joined us, her eyes compassionate. "I doubt it, not as long as the _Custodes_ are so powerful there, at any rate. There's too much of a chance you'd be recognized and arrested if you go back. Maybe someday, if things get better for our kind, or once memories fade, you could see then if it's safe for you to return, at least for a visit. Mistress Elena McTavish might be a name too well known to the _Custodes_ right now, but perhaps Mistress Elena de Vara might not be."

"De Vara?" I echoed in confusion.

The color in Master Rylan's cheeks rose. "That...um...would be my surname. And yours as well, if you decide you want to continue on with me. That is...if you..." He darted a nervous look at the woman beside him, and suddenly his meaning became clear to me.

"Oh!" My gaze dropped to my hands, unwilling to meet his. I had nothing against the Deryni Healer—certainly I knew my father had held him in high respect—but I was not yet ready to consider a marriage to anyone. As if guessing my feelings, the man stood, bowing respectfully. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'll be here tomorrow, and possibly one more day beyond that, if you need the extra time to decide—though you do need to make _some_ choice as quickly as you can." He smiled down at me with an awkwardly boyish smile that made him suddenly look years younger than the nearly three decades I suspected he had already lived. "I know this must be rather uncomfortable for you, Elena—it is for me as well—but I would do my best to give you a life you might find some measure of contentment with, someday..."

"I am…honored by your offer, Master Rylan," I whispered. "Please don't think me rude if I need a little time to think it over. It's just that…I didn't expect any of this…." Despite my best intentions, I felt tears prick at my eyes.

"None of us did," Nora soothed, wrapping her cloak around me as the Healer nodded in understanding and retreated to his sleeping pallet. "We thought we'd have more time to prepare, and that we'd be leaving Gwynedd in a far different way than we did. And we certainly never expected that your family would suffer the wrath of the _Custodes_; we thought we'd all be safely gone by week's end, with the authorities none the wiser." She gave my shoulders a squeeze. "I know you're frightened. I think we all are. But Rylan's a good man; if you accept him, he'll do his best by you." She smiled sadly. "He was my brother-in-law, so I should know. My sister loved him dearly."

"Your…oh!" I pondered her words, wondering how long the Deryni Healer had been a widower, wondering also how he'd lost his wife. Had she died in Nyford, or had his family moved on from there before he'd even wed? There was so much I realized I didn't know about this stranger who was offering me his name and protection. "Then…will you be accompanying him to Tralia?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid our paths part ways fairly soon, if not here in Sostra. I travel with my mother who is in ill health and wishes to return to the land of her birth before she dies. So we're off to find passage to the Ile d'Orsal in the morning, and from there to her kindred in Joux."

Her casual reference to such distant lands startled me. How highborn had her family—as well as Master Rylan's—been, if they both had family they could call upon in time of need in such distant lands as Tralia and Joux? My father was a wealthy merchant and well traveled, yet most of my kinfolk on both sides of my family dwelt in Stavenham or the surrounding countryside, certainly no further beyond Stavenham than the borders of the Kheldish Riding. Had these Deryni once been of the nobility, to have intermarried with families from beyond Gwynedd's borders? Once again, I felt far outside of my element, completely displaced from all I knew. But if my guess were correct, then how much more displaced must my new traveling companions be feeling now, with their entire lives overturned by the changes that had swept through the Kingdom in one short span of years, not quite a generation?

"I'll let you rest," Nora said, leaving me her cloak and retreating to her own pallet nearby.

#

_August 1, 918_

_Sostra, Torenth_

I awakened to the sounds of quiet discussions going on around me, and the household servants collecting pallets and blankets to store them away for the day. I surrendered my sleeping pallet, watching as it joined the last of the items being carried out to make room for the trestles and boards that would make up the hall tables for the morning meal.

"If you wish to freshen yourself, there are basins and ewers set out for the purpose in the withdrawing room beyond the dais," Nora informed me. "Not much in the way of clean clothing to go around, unfortunately, though if you wish to hand me yours, I think I've a spare overgown in my pack that you can wear until your own clothing has had the smoke smell scrubbed out and has time to dry in the sun. Or there are a few garments our hostess offered up on loan, but they're a bit…gaudy." Nora's eyes sparkled with some hidden amusement, though I didn't know why. "I think you'd prefer my overgown, personally. Give me a moment to fetch it, and I'll bring it in to you. The chamber is private enough; it's been reserved for the women and young children among us. The men are stripping down and washing in the courtyard."

Feeling shy, yet unwilling to go on smelling like a clogged hearth for another day, I allowed her to lead me to the withdrawing room, where I found not only fresh water for rinsing off, but also fragrant soaps and perfumed towels. A small pile of odd garments also lay neatly folded beside the towels. I unfolded one of the silky gowns. It was quite lovely, though shockingly sheer; surely it was meant to be worn as an outer garment over some opaque gown! I folded it and returned it to the pile self-consciously as Nora entered with a far more modest gown of sky-blue linen. She noticed what I was doing and laughed.

"No, don't wear that, or someone might assume you work here!" She grinned. "Here you are. It might be a trifle loose on you, but it should serve the purpose until the laundress returns your clothes this afternoon."

"What is this place?" I asked in confusion, looking around at the sumptuously appointed chamber.

Nora grinned. "Well, as Rylan told you last night, it's a private home. But what he neglected to mention, fearing you'd had enough shocks for one evening, was that we're next door to a brothel. This is the owner's residence." She laughed at my shocked expression. "Don't worry; the Birds of Paradise ply their trade in the house on the other side of the courtyard, not here. As long as you remain inside, no passers-by will mistake you for one of the women-for-hire and offer you insult."

#

Once I had finished with my ablutions and was more or less decently dressed again, I made my way to the table where my former neighbor Jamie and his family sat breaking their fast. They rose as I approached, Jamie's mother barely daring to meet my eyes, her face suffused with shame, as if she feared I might blame them for all that had befallen my family. Jamie's eyes were red-rimmed. I suspected he might be grieving for Rose, though I didn't know if he was aware of exactly what had befallen her. There was no way he could have seen her violation, I didn't think, unless there was some means by which Deryni could see through solid walls. I doubted it; even Master Rylan had required the peephole. But he may have heard the same cries and pleas that I had heard through that grotto wall and drawn his own conclusions about what had occurred.

"We're so sorry," Jamie's mother sobbed as I sat on the bench across from her. I reached across the table to squeeze her hand, forcing back my own tears.

"I'm sorry for your losses as well," I said, though my voice sounded a bit hollow. "Where are you headed now?"

Jamie's mother glanced uncertainly at her husband, who sat stone-faced beside her. He started slightly, as if awakening from a bad dream, regathering his thoughts before answering me. "Coroth, I think. It's a port city, and more isolated from the heart of the current…troubles. The Duke is Deryni himself, so unless the _Custodes_ find a way to overthrow him, I imagine we'll be safe enough there for the present. I think we could start over again in Coroth, but if not, it should be easy enough to find passage there on a ship to…elsewhere. I don't know…." His eyes looked haunted. "I don't know, Elena."

They did not invite me to accompany them, and I didn't ask. I imagined that Jamie would hardly welcome a daily reminder of my sister traveling on their uncertain journey with them, and I was certain, now that I had seen them again, that I could not bear to continue on with the family my sister might have married into, had she been free to follow her heart. There would be no hope of healing for any of us in that; best to make a clean break of it. "I wish you all well," I told them, and rose to join Nora and her mother instead.

#

"Have you decided yet?" Master Rylan asked me quietly later that evening, once my meager belongings had been returned to me. I had returned Nora's gown to her and was as ready to move on as I could be, given the circumstances.

I nodded, feeling my cheeks warm. "I don't really know anyone else here well enough to presume on their good will, but if it won't be too much of an inconvenience, I'll follow you to Tralia."

He bowed over my hand. "I know this is no easy choice for you nonetheless. I understand you will need a bit of time to get used to the idea of a husband you never intended to wed. All the same, I think it would be best if we marry before we leave Sostra, if you're willing. I promise I won't presume to ask for anything else from you until you're ready." My face flamed even further. He looked away, pretending to check that his bundle of goods was securely tied, giving me time to regain my composure before slinging the pack over his shoulder and offering me his arm. "Will you join me?"

I hesitated only briefly before laying my hand on Master Rylan's arm, allowing him to lead me into our uncertain future together.

**Epilogue**

_August 1, 928_

_Tralia_

I rocked my son Andrew in my arms, singing quietly to him in my native Gwyneddan, though I had become fluent in the tongue of my adopted homeland Tralia as well. He soon fell asleep, and I laid him gently in his cradle, tucking a light sheet over him before turning to check on the pottage cooking at the hearth.

My husband entered our home. I smiled in welcome as I crossed the room to greet him, allowing him to gather me in his strong embrace, hugging him back with an enthusiasm born of profound relief.

"You're back! I was worried for you."

Rylan bent to kiss me. "I told you I'd be back in time for our wedding anniversary."

So he had assured me, yet such promises were far from certain whenever he took the risk of returning to Stavenham. Yet return he had, and on more than one occasion, for he had made a promise a decade ago to my father that he would not stop until the day when no more Deryni needed safe passage out of Gwynedd. The numbers had dwindled over the years—his race had never been numerous to begin with, and of those who had chosen to flee the kingdom, there had been a variety of routes they had chosen which did not require a journey to Stavenham along the way—but often he had managed to find at least a few of his kind in hiding, hoping to slip through the busy port of Stavenham past the watchful eyes of the _Custodes_. News of the hidden Portal had been passed around among the fleeing Deryni by word of mouth, though few knew exactly where to find it, which is why Rylan returned from time to time to guide his people to freedom.

His people, now my own as well, for though I was human, I was linked by ties of marriage to a Deryni man and by ties of blood to Deryni daughters. Our infant son, like me, so far appeared to be simply human. I had feared Rylan would be disappointed if his long-awaited heir was not of the same kind as he and our other children, but he had merely smiled when I'd tentatively broached the subject, reminding me that it took far more than arcane powers or the lack thereof to make a man, and while he would like to bring a Healer child into the world someday, the Eleven Kingdoms have just as much need of the Andrew McTavishes of the world as well.

"What news from Gwynedd?" I asked my husband, setting a bowl of pottage before him and joining him at our table.

He began to dig in, relishing the first few mouthfuls of hot stew before replying. "Fortune has taken yet another turn, though God grant this one will be for the better in the long run. Rumor has it that some of the Statutes of Ramos have been repealed, for one thing. The _Custodes_ abbeys in Ramos and Rhemuth have also been dissolved and the _Equites Custodum Fidei_ have been disbanded. The _Custodes_ order still exists, but their star is waning, and they've been placed under new leadership with the intent to reform them." He took a swallow of ale to wash down his pottage. "Not that it's safe for our people to return home yet by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a start."

"Yes, it's a start." I felt a twinge of sadness that my father had not lived to see this day. Rylan had discovered, on his first return to Stavenham after our flight for our lives, that my father had survived the burning of his properties only to be executed for aiding and abetting "criminal" Deryni, burned at a stake in the market square for his apostasy. My mother and little sister Pippa had both perished before that, in the initial flames that had consumed our home, for that had been the leverage the _Custodes_ and the Bishop's soldiers had used to force my father into confessing his subversive acts against the Stavenham authorities. And as for Rose, either there had not been enough evidence against her for her to share our father's fate or else certain men in places of authority simply found it more advantageous to lock her away in a prison cell for reasons of their own. In either case, it was a mere shell of a woman Cousin Rory found when he finally managed to convince—or more likely, bribe—her jailers into releasing her into his keeping on his parole that he would not allow her to get involved in any further 'rebellion' or 'apostasy.' Rose never recovered enough to wed him. Broken in both health and spirit, she did not survive the winter.

Not all my father's legacy had perished, however, in the _Custodes_' flames. Cousin Rory managed to acquire what was left of Papa's former properties, and the Bishop, less suspicious of a Montrose than a McTavish, allowed him to rebuild on them and expand his mercantile holdings. A fat annual tithe to the Bishop's purse doubtless sweetened the deal. Rory dared not jeopardize his growing enterprises by any active involvement in the same passions and pursuits that had gotten Papa killed, but as Rylan soon discovered, he was willing to turn a blind eye to the occasional trespasser who happened to wander through his gardens late at night to pay their respects to the virtuous Saint Catulina. The warehouse with its hidden sanctuary was too badly fire-damaged to be left standing and eventually had to be torn down and rebuilt, this time without a secret chamber, but the grotto itself remained intact and continues to stand to this day, the last reminder of the McTavish family who used to live in Ivygreen House.


End file.
